


Sea Waves

by muldertxf



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muldertxf/pseuds/muldertxf
Summary: A silly little fluff, set in beginning of season 7.





	Sea Waves

  The world yaws, and he’s cast off into the water like a pirate. She doesn’t look at him, he does not look to her; there is an unspoken dialogue simmering beneath her red scalp that need not be verbalized. She lobs the yellowed life raft off the rusty railing, and it lands with a quiet splash that’s swallowed whole by the ocean’s incessant lapping. A captain and her merman, both lost in a sea of  _ X _ s.

  Mulder clings to the beaten red-and-yellow circle with a white-knuckled grasp. Scully looks down on him, and swaths of sun-baked strawberry red strands wrestle from hairpins, beat her rosy cheeks. The sun halos her, beautifully emphasizing the stray reds and yellows that flap enthusiastically behind her head. He revels in it, hugging the bobbing float, head craned up.

  Mulder shouts over the warm salt that plays with her hair, threatens to unravel it even more from its bun, “Hey, water’s fine!”

  Scully’s smile is subtle, and not downright toothy as Mulder’s is. She cocks her head like a pomeranian. Her rolled-up khakis batter against freckled calves, one cuff sits higher than the other. She kicks a small puddle off the edge, and it sprays a wet confetti on Mulder’s face. He shakes it off, a dumb grin under dark, damp hair. He laughs, but it is dulled by the roll of waves.

  “Mulder, we have a case here,” she licks her lips, “and I’d like to finish it before the end of the millennium, if you don’t mind.”

  Millennium; his mind flicks to a mental reel of quiet zombies, red gushing necks, and snapped arms. That was then. Those things are gone now, whisked away with the previous millennium, like a hushed whisper into a rough breeze. He thinks of an awkward kiss under fake light, ushered in by the cheers of a televised crowd. The sea crunches against the hull and claps rapturously, sending chills up his spine. His body jerks.

  “Do you really believe people have seen a  _ hippocampus _ out here, Scully?”

  The ship rocks and Scully’s grip on the railing falters a bit; she readjusts. “Don’t  _ you _ ? Why are we out here then, Mulder?” she questions, scrunching her brows in annoyance, “Was falling off our boat deliberate? That shirt is ruined.” She giggles despite her attempt of seriousness.

  “Look, I’ve got dramamine, Scully. I won’t be seasick. There’s no shortage on plain white work-shirts, and…” Mulder’s speech drawls off into nothing, as he realizes in horror, that his tie’s disappeared. “Scully!”

  “Oh Mulder,” Scully concedes, letting her hair free at last, “let me help look for your ugly tie.”

  The splash of water on her skin is refreshing, invigorating.

  They never find his tie.


End file.
